


Stroke of luck

by TheLadyOrTheTiger



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Bisexual Characters, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Multi, Pining, Polyamory, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition, rated for later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:42:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29763951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyOrTheTiger/pseuds/TheLadyOrTheTiger
Summary: A chance meeting between Lady Trevelyan and the King and Queen of Ferelden leads to an instantaneous friendship. A friendship so deep in fact, that it may be something entirely different.
Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Trevelyan (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Female Cousland/Female Trevelyan (Dragon Age)
Kudos: 7





	1. Tall dark strangers

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank Manchanification - a very talented writer, a great beta, and an amazing friend.

The sounds of the ball were slowly getting fainter as Madlen Trevelyan was winding through the unfamiliar corridors of the Denerim palace. She didn’t have a destination in mind - she just needed to get away. Away from the crowd, the noise, the smell, the unbearable pressure. There was an open window around the bend, and she quickened her steps, finally grasping the windowsill and gulping in lungfuls of clean night air.

Was it her corset, laced far too tightly, at her mother’s orders, that was causing her to feel this tightness in her chest, or was it just the unease that was creeping up from her stomach, and all the way into her throat?

She didn’t belong there, in the palace, among those people. She was not like them.

With a bitter laugh, Madlen rested her head against the cool windowpane. Perhaps she was not like them, but she was one of them, made to play their games and obey their rules. What choice did she have? To run away to Antiva and try to pursue her painting? She was not talented enough to achieve any level of success. To get truly proficient at her bow and daggers, and join a mercenary company? That was just laughable. But she also couldn’t bear to think of returning downstairs. It made her sick just to think of the heavy perfume in the air - some sweet, some musky, and all making her head ache.

Her mother was going to find her and drag her downstairs by her collar at some point, but until that happened, Madlen was going to rest somewhere. She had no idea where she was, but what was the worst thing that could happen if she tried the nearest doors? Certainly nothing as bad as having another clammy hand sneaking around her waist in the crowd.

With that in mind, Madlen moved away from the window and towards the large doors at the end of another corridor. The cold metal handle gave way under her fingers, and she slipped inside. She smiled at what she saw inside - rows and rows of books, illuminated by the soft glow from several candelabras. This was where she belonged.

Madlen closed the doors behind herself, took a few steps inside, and almost jumped out of her skin when a male voice called out from inside “I didn’t think you’d get here this quickly.”

In that moment Madlen had two choices - to quickly run away, leaving the man to await his intended companion, or to announce her presence. She was always going to thank whatever power made her take a step forward and speak up.

“I’m terribly sorry, but I think I’m intruding.”

She waited and listened as footsteps neared her. When the man came into view, Madlen quickly dropped into a curtsey.

“Your Majesty,” she whispered. She could see nothing more than king Alistair Theirin’s brown boots, as she stared at the floor. “I humbly apologize for disturbing you. I shall go now.”

“That’s quite alright.” The king’s voice was pleasant, and he didn’t sound annoyed with her. “Did you try to get away from the ball?”

Madlen looked up and saw no judgment on his face, but still she tried to speak cautiously.

“It is a splendid ball, to be sure, but I’m not… I’m not one for large gatherings. The fault is entirely with me, Your Majesty.”

The king laughed, but Madlen didn’t feel like he was laughing at her. He was very handsome, she observed, and even taller than she thought he was. She’s only seen him from far away, as he was entertaining some more important guests. He looked every bit the warrior he once was, with broad shoulders and trim waist. From across the ballroom he appeared serious, stoic, but up close his face was animated, his eyes full of mirth. Now Madlen could clearly see that his hair, slightly longer than was fashionable, had a hint of red in it.

“As you may have noticed, I’m also here and not there, so… and please don’t spread this information… I’m also not one for large gatherings. In fact, I hate them. But again - this stays between me and you.” He grinned from ear to ear, and Madlen returned the gesture. It was only a jest, but she felt like she was being allowed into the king’s confidence.

“I shall take your secret to the grave, Your Majesty,” she swore, still smiling.

“Good, good. But, oh, I’m being awfully rude. What is your name, Madam?”

“Madlen Trevelyan. I hail from the Free Marches.” Madlen curtsied again. 

“It’s a pleasure, Lady Trevelyan.” The king bowed to her. “The Free Marches you said? That is a long way away from Ferelden. Do you perhaps have family here?”

“We have family everywhere, perhaps with the exception of  Par Vollen,” Madlen responded, thinking of the unendingly complicated Trevelyan family tree.

“So you do have family in Seheron then?” the king asked, barely containing a smile.

“I was about to jest, saying that we may have a cousin thrice removed living there, but my mother would’ve surely faint if she knew that I did that.”

“I shall protect your secret, as you do mine.”

“I’m much obliged, Your Majesty.” As she said the words again, it struck Madlen just how odd it was. She was speaking to a king, and they were joking, acting as if it was perfectly normal. “Should I leave you, Your Majesty? I’ve taken so much of your time already, and you’re waiting for someone…”

“If you’d like to leave, I shall not stop you, but don’t go on my account. I would never turn away another person who hates balls as much as I do.”

Was he just being polite or…

“I mean it, Lady Trevelyan. Stay, if you like. I’m awaiting my wife, but she hates those pompous affairs as much as I do.” The king laughed. “That’s another secret you now know. You must tell me one as well to balance the scales.”

Madlen laughed, and for a moment wondered what she should say, but before her mind could come up with something, her mouth was already moving.

“I don’t want to get married,” she blurted out.

Just as she was about to try to explain herself, the doors fell open behind her. Madlen spun around, and curtsied to the queen who just entered.

“Why, hello there.” The queen's voice was melodious and a bit low. “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure.”

“I’m Madlen Trevelyan, Your Majesty,” Madlen introduced herself, looking up at the queen.

She was a stunning woman. Rather tall, slim and elegant, with sharp features, large brown eyes and a shock of flaming red hair in a complicated updo. Her emerald dress was very simple, but it accentuated her gentle curves. When she smiled, full lips painted a deep red stretching wide, Madlen was left speechless.

“Lady Trevelyan came to us all the way from the Free Marches, hates balls and has no wish to get married,” the king supplied.

“Indeed?” The queen’s smile only widened. “A very wise choice. Most noble men are dull and will only waste your time.”

Madlen laughed, half in mirth and half in relief.

“There are some very few exceptions. Actually, I can only think of one.” The queen moved towards her husband, who took her hand.

“His Majesty is already married, so I shall maintain my stance on the institution,” Madlen responded, before she could think better of it. “A thousand pardons. I shouldn’t have spoken in such a manner about his Majesty…”

“You needn’t worry,” the queen said, cutting off Madlen’s words. “We’re not offended.”

“Of course not,” the king agreed instantly. “I shall take it as a compliment from both of you.”

Madlen’s knees went a bit weak, as she relaxed. Offending royalty was not part of her plan for the evening, nor really her life.

“I think  _ you _ should be offended,” the queen told Madlen, causing her to raise her eyebrows in mute confusion. “Alistair was a most ungalant host. He found out your opinion on marriage before offering you a seat or a drink.”

Madlen laughed again. In this short exchange she’s laughed more than she did the entire evening.

“I bring shame upon all my ancestors,” the king said dramatically.

“You do possess some talents which make up for that shortcoming.” The queen smiled fondly at him. “Lady Trevelyan, will you have some wine with us?”

“I do not wish to impose, Your Majesty,” Madlen responded, even though all she wanted to do was accept. Those were the king and queen, and she should feel like she didn’t belong with them as much as she didn’t belong with the people in the ballroom, but there was something about them, about their kind smiles and light words, which charmed her, and made her want to be in their presence for as long as possible.

“It is not an imposition. I’m sure I speak for the both of us when I say that we’d like to get to know you, Lady Trevelyan,” the king told her.

“Yes, certainly. You’re the one guest here I’d truly like to entertain,” the queen added.

Madlen felt her heart start to beat faster.

“I… Yes. If that is so, then yes, I will have some wine. Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Splendid!” The queen beamed at her. “What kind of wine do you like, Lady Trevelyan?”

Madlen hesitated.

“My tastes are rather… simple,” she confessed. “I should ask for a good Antivan vintage, but those taste like medicine to me.”

“We share tastes, it appears,” the queen told her, pleased. “Something sweet and light then.” 

“I’m glad we won’t have to pretend to be sophisticated,” the king threw over his shoulder, starting to walk.

As the king retreated deeper into the library, his long legged strides making him disappear quickly into the chamber, the queen offered Madlen her arm. Without hesitation, Madlen accepted it, and felt herself shivering slightly as her fingers slid over the expensive material of the queen’s sleeve to ultimately rest on the soft skin of her inner arm. Being so close, she could also smell the queen’s perfume. She couldn’t quite tell what the other woman smelled like, only that the scent reminded her of warm spring mornings. It was light and pleasant, and Madlen had to resist the urge to lean in closer.

To distract herself, Madlen looked around the large chamber, marveling at the huge bookcases filled from top to bottom with leather bound volumes.

“Your library is most impressive, Your Majesty,” she said as they started walking. 

The queen smiled, her face so close to Madlen’s that she could see flecks of gold in her brown eyes.

“It is one of my favorite places in the palace. It’s so quiet and peaceful. When I can’t get out of the city, this is where I come to rest.”

“Do you like to be out in nature, Your Majesty?” Madlen inquired.

“Very much. Nothing pleases me more than a day by the ocean or in the forest with my husband. Are you similarly inclined?”

Madlen grinned and nodded. She felt like there was another thread forming, connecting her to the stunning woman by her side.

“I’ve heard that the lands around Denerim are lovely, but my mother does not want me to go out of the city. She finds no pleasure in the outdoors, so she will not go with me, and the idea of me being alone is unacceptable to her.”

After the words had left her mouth, Madlen worried that she sounded like a petulant child.

“What if you were not alone?” the queen asked.

“I have no friends in the city, and my mother claims that it would be a waste of my aunt’s servant’s time if they were to accompany me,” Madlen confessed, somewhat embarrassed, for herself or her mother, she wasn’t quite sure.

“There’s an easy solution to that problem.” The queen gave Madlen the kind of smile that could turn knees to pudding. There was a promise of mischief in those deep brown eyes.

At last they reached a set of open doors, leading to a side chamber, a study of sorts, Madlen assumed, with several armchairs and a large fireplace. The king was already there, three glasses of wine resting on a table before him.

“I’ve just had the most inspired idea,” the queen announced, entering, still not letting go of Madlen. “We shall steal Lady Trevelyan away from the city and show her everything that Ferelden has to offer.”

Madlen felt her heart starting to beat faster. She wasn’t sure if it was just because the queen apparently wanted to spend more time with her, despite barely knowing her, or the way she’s expressed it. The phrase ‘stealing away’ brought to mind stories of rogues or impoverished knights abducting ladies they cared for, when their love was not possible under normal circumstances.

“How does Lady Trevelyan feel about being stolen away?” the king asked, looking right at Madlen. He appeared to try to remain serious, but the slight twitching of the corners of his mouth betrayed him.

“I have no issues with that plan, Your Majesty,” Madlen responded. The words sounded dry, and she didn’t want to give the impression that she wasn’t enthusiastic about the prospect. “Quite the opposite in fact. I will be your willing captive.” That… That was probably too enthusiastic.

“It’s settled then.” The queen gave her arm a little squeeze before letting go and moving towards her husband and picking up a glass of wine.

The king picked up two glasses and offered one to Madlen. As she reached out to take it, their fingers brushed, and once more Madlen felt herself shivering gently. Even the smallest touch from those two people made her skin feel alive with sensation.

“To chance meetings,” the queen said, lifting her glass.

“To new friends,” the king added.

All Madlen could do was smile, nodd, and take a sip of wine. She felt overwhelmed in the best way possible. If this were a dream, she was going to enjoy it for as long as possible.

The wine was sweet and tasted of ripe summer fruit. She took a larger sip, closing her eyes in pleasure at the delicious taste.

“Do you like it, Lady Trevelyan?” the king asked.

“It’s perfect, Your Majesty. Thank you. Thank you for the wine, and for… everything.” Madlen felt that her words were inadequate to express what was in her heart, the joyful tumult of emotions. Why were they so kind to her? Why did they want to spend more time with her? She dared not ask the question lest they changed their mind.

“It’s our pleasure,” the queen responded, taking a seat in an armchair.

The king and Madlen followed her lead. The two monarchs turned to each other and shared a look so tender that Madlen felt like she was intruding on something not meant for outsiders to see. They were still very much in love, it was plain to see. The years of their marriage have not dulled their passion. They looked so perfect, both beautiful in their own way, somehow casual despite their rich and elegant clothing. The fire burning in the room was casting shadows on them, making them appear somewhat mysterious and otherworldly.

“This would make such a splendid painting,” Madlen heard herself say.

“Oh?” The queen sent a questioning glance her way.

“Pardon me, Your Majesty. I’m only… I paint a bit, and you present a very striking tableau,” Madlen explained, feeling like she was doing something wrong by looking at them so intensely.

“You’re an artist? That’s wonderful. I have no such talents, but Laurella plays the lute and sings wonderfully,” the king said, smiling proudly.

“I’d hardly call myself an artist,” Madlen murmured. “I dabble a bit in painting, do some sketches here and there. It’s nothing special, truly.”

“I’m quite certain it’s not nothing. I will not have a woman diminish her own talents,” the queen told her, her voice authoritative. “I’d love to have you paint me. I’d offer that you paint us both, but Alistair hates sitting for portraits.”

“No offense, Lady Trevelyan, but I’m not a patient man. I hate sitting still and doing nothing.”

Madlen couldn’t help laughing, half at the thought that a king was all but apologizing to her, and half just in relief at the fact that the royal couple didn’t seem to mind her words.

“That’s perfectly understandable, Your Majesty. To be honest, posed portraits are not my favorite. I prefer to paint from memory. That way I capture my own impressions, the feelings I’ve experienced, and not just a static picture,” Madlen explained. “Of course if the queen wished me to paint her, it would be my honour and privilege. I didn’t mean to be ungrateful. Your offer has been most generous, Your Majesty.”

Madlen drank her wine to cut herself off. She wasn’t sure how to express herself and continuing to just talk hardly ever worked in her favour.

“Do not worry.” The queen smiled kindly. “I’d love to see your art, but only on your terms. If you’d like to paint us as we were tonight, you’re more than welcome to do so, but don’t feel obligated.”

“I will paint you, Your Majesties” Madlen declared, before she could stop herself. Why would she say that? Did she truly think that she had enough talent to do justice to the king and queen? Was she ready to have them judge her art? Of course not! But now it was too late. It seemed that she couldn't say no to those two people.

“Let us drink to artists then,” the king suggested.

The long drink of wine worked to lessen the anxiety that was starting to swirl in Madlen’s stomach.

“Do you like to dance, Lady Trevelyan?” the queen asked.

Madlen was relieved at the change of topic.

“I do. Or rather I did. When I was younger it was a very pleasant diversion, but now my mother is foisting each and every dance partner on me, and I know that she wants me to charm them into proposing, preferably in the span of one song. My sisters have told me to be more open, less judgmental, to lower my expectations, but I… I just can’t! This is my life. If I feel myself recoiling at the feeling of someone’s hand on mine, then I will not do battle with myself to try and accept it. I know that millions of women have done so before me, but it seems impossible to me. Perhaps if it would save my family from ruin or give my siblings a chance at a better life, then I’d do it, but my family is not in dire straits and all my sisters and brothers are already married. I don’t see why they shouldn’t let me be as I am - content in my unwed state.”

After finishing, slightly breathless with her excitement, Madlen took a last long drink of the wine. Perhaps she’s shared too much. She was asked about dancing, and now she was divulging very private family matters. There was just something about the king and queen that put her at ease, almost forced her to speak freely.

“I understand what you’re going through,” the queen told her. “We didn’t live in a city, so we didn’t socialize very often with other nobles, but when someone came calling, or when we were invited somewhere, I felt the heavy weight of expectation my parents were placing on me. I was their only daughter, they wanted me married. I hated it. Hated all the suitors they found for me, hated being judged and assessed like a prized horse, hated the path before me being so narrow. We’ve wasted so much time, my parents and I. If they could’ve seen me for who I was, if I found a way to get through to them…”

The queen pressed her lips together and looked away, into the fire. She appeared to be far away, lost in time and space. Madlen knew where she went - to that awful night when she lost almost her entire family. How much that still had to hurt.

Without thinking about it, Madlen leaned forward and placed her hand on the queen’s palm. She was not a physically affectionate person, and yet she felt the need to reach out, to give even the smallest measure of comfort.

The queen’s hand was very warm and soft. Before Madlen could worry about her almost permanently cold hand being unpleasant to the other woman, the queen turned her hand over and grasped Madlen’s.

“My family…” she started, looking at Madlen with sad eyes.

“I know, Your Majesty. Words feel hollow when contrasted with the depth of your feelings, but know that I’m terribly sorry for your pain,” Madlen told her in a low voice.

The queen nodded and squeezed Madlen’s hand. It felt like she was about to let go, but didn’t.

“I don’t know what came over me. I’m usually not dwelling on those things,” the queen said, trying to smile.

“That’s only natural, Your Majesty. Feelings come back to us at the most inopportune times.” Madlen thought of her beloved aunt, gone before her time, taken by a rare illness. After four years she still missed her and cried for her. She said nothing about it at that moment, not wishing to appear as if she were trying to make herself the center of the conversation.

“I keep telling her that,” the king chimed in. “She wants to always be strong. She’s incredibly powerful, but she is still only human.”

“Do you think you will make Lady Trevelyan an ally of yours?” the queen asked, her voice somewhat teasing.

“If the king wants me as an ally, I will be one for him,” Madlen responded. A part of her feared being too forward, but she pressed on nonetheless. “I’ve always admired you, Your Majesty. I’ve admired the king as well, but your circumstances were closer to mine and I could imagine myself in your place. I admired you not because you were infallible or fearless, but because you were human. You overcame fears and became brave, you experienced pain and came out kind, you fell and you kept rising up. You are a true hero. I’ve read every retelling of your story, and that’s the impression I came out with.”

The queen regarded her for long moments, a slow smile spreading on her face.

“Thank you, Lady Trevelyan. I needed to hear that. And I’m flattered by your admiration.”

“Even if I haven’t known your story, I would be incredibly impressed by you, but being familiar with your past, I feel nothing short of reverence for you, Your Majesty” Madlen confessed.

The queen laughed gently.

“Please, don’t put me on a pedestal. I don’t want to be far away and untouchable. I want us to be friends.”

“But of course!” Madlen felt dizzy with joy hearing that. “I’d like nothing more than for us to be friends. I will never stop admiring you, but you shall not be untouchable, Your Majesty. In fact I’m touching you at this very moment.” She ran her thumb over the queen’s knuckles, once more frightened that she was being discourteous, but unable to stop herself.

“That you are.” The queen mirrored her gesture and smiled in a way that would’ve surely made Madlen’s knees weak if she were standing. It couldn’t be the other woman’s intention, she couldn’t possibly know the effect she had on Madlen, but it was thrilling nonetheless. “Will you dance with me?” the queen asked suddenly. “As much as I’d love to stay here for the rest of the night, we will have to return and tend to our less interesting guests. Alistair will be able to dance with you in the ballroom, but I will not. I know it would be odd, what with me being a woman, and there not being any music, but…”

“Nothing would please me more, Your Majesty,” Madlen cut in, her heart once more starting to beat wildly in her chest. The queen looked like she was about to get up, when a thought struck Madlen. “If His Majesty wouldn’t mind... That is, if His Majesty even wanted to dance with me, I would prefer to do it here. I fear that if people saw me dancing with the king, they would assume that my status is higher than it actually is, and consequently would see me as a more desirable marital prospect. I don’t want to seem ungrateful, I…”

“Perfectly understandable.” This time it was the king cutting off Madlen. “To be honest, my wife loves dancing far more than I do. I’m much more at ease on the battlefield than on the dance floor. I would very much enjoy a dance with you, and not being watched and judged by dozens of people would only improve the experience.”

Madlen breathed a sigh of relief. She always worried that her hasty words were going to offend someone, and here that worry was redoubled because she deeply cared about the royal couple’s opinion of her, and also because despite their easy ways, she was still conscious of their position.

“That settles it, then.” The queen got up, and Madlen followed. “There isn’t much space here. Let’s go to the balcony.”

The king also rose, and overtook them with his long strides. 

Madlen allowed herself to be led once more, and with a sinking bitter-sweet feeling realized that she was entirely under their spell, that the two people before her already had some kind of a hold on her, and she would not refuse them anything. All she could do now was hope that they felt even a fraction of what she did.

They moved between rows of books until at last Madlen felt a cool breeze on her skin. Soon the doors to the balcony came into view. The king had already opened them, and presently was leaning against the balustrade. It was relatively dark outside, but the king stood out against the backdrop of the night sky, his hair bright and his smile even brighter. Madlen has met many a tall man, but never one quite as large as him, and yet even though those men often came off as imposing or even slightly threatening, the king appeared warm and kind, his size seeming to offer only protection.

As they stepped out onto the balcony, Madlen noticed the hundreds of stars surrounding the waning moon, but before she could get lost in the sight before her, the queen pulled on her hand, and Madlen spun, ending up terribly, shockingly, delightfully close to the other woman. They were a breath apart in fact, although Madlen had to tilt her head up slightly to look at the queen, who smiled at her widely, showing a flash of teeth. Madlen realized that she was already smiling and breathing a bit harder through parted lips.

“How should we…?” she started asking.

“Would you mind if I led?” the queen asked almost at the same time.

“Not at all,” Madlen told her. She’s practiced dancing with her friends at school, and was perfectly capable of leading herself, but at this moment she didn’t want to think about next steps - she wanted to feel, to experience. “Perhaps some other time…” 

It felt bold to suggest that they would do such a thing again, and that the queen would ever submit to her lead, but before Madlen could panic about that, the queen nodded her head.

“Certainly,” she said, placing her hand on Madlen’s waist, and lifting up the hand which she was already holding. It was mad, but Maldne could swear that she felt the warmth of the queen’s hand through the many layers of fabric separating them.

Madlen knew that she had to place her hand on the queen’s shoulder and had to calm the slight trembling of her fingers. The queen’s dress left her shoulders exposed, and Madlen had to touch her bare flesh. They’ve already held hands for far longer than Madlen would’ve ever imagined being able to do with someone who was essentially a stranger, but this was different. On the other hand, the queen didn’t feel like a stranger, and all Madlen wanted to do was touch her.

When her hand finally found the queen’s soft skin, Madlen thought she felt her shiver. It was most likely because of her awful, almost constantly cold fingers, Madlen told herself. Before she could apologize, the queen started humming. It took Madlen a moment to recognize the tune, but soon she remembered the ballad, which was popular several years earlier. She couldn’t recall the words, but that hardly mattered.

The queen started moving, and Madlen followed her lead easily. The other woman was very confident, her hold steady, and Madlen felt pliant in her arms. She enjoyed the queen’s voice, her touch, her sweet smell, and her smile.

They glided over the large balcony easily. The queen wasn’t attempting any difficult figures, until she let go of Madlen and spun her in place several times. Madlen laughed, feeling giddy, and gratefully fell back into the queen’s steady arms. It took her a second to catch her breath, and as she did, she could almost swear that the queen cast her eyes down to her rapidly rising and falling chest, displayed in the dress which was supposed to catch the attention of potential suitors. Madlen quickly dismissed the thought. It was only her imagination. Or wishful thinking.

Far too soon for Madlen’s liking, the queen’s humming stopped. The ballad came to an end. But there was no time for disappointments, because the queen called for her husband, and spun Madlen one last time. The movement was perhaps a bit too strong, because Madlen ended up with both of her hands on the king’s chest. The king immediately placed his hands on her hips to steady her, and Madlen let out a very undignified, downright incriminating sigh.

“Are you alright, Lady Trevelyan?” the king asked, concern clear in his voice.

“Yes. I think I’ve never been better,” Madlen confessed, looking up at the king’s handsome face. His eyes were lighter than those of his wife but they held Madlen entranced all the same, and made her say such foolish, inappropriate things.

“You’re about to dance with me, so it may very well change,” the king responded, seemingly unbothered by Madlen’s too forward words.

At their side, the queen let out a long frustrated sigh. The king and Madlen turned their heads to look at her.

“He’s not as bad as all that. He’s far too hard on himself,” she explained.

“I only wished to warn Lady Trevelyan…”

In Madlen’s humble opinion, the only thing she should’ve been warned about was how very distracting it was that the king still had his hands on her. The steady pressure of his large hands was beyond pleasant.

“Lady Trevelyan, do not listen to this nonsense. You are perfectly safe.”

Madlen was looking from one monarch to the other, trying to focus on their words and not her feelings.

“Yes, she is safe - I will not crush her. I only meant that I’m not very good at this, and her enjoyment of the night may decrease significantly.”

“I do not believe that,” Madlen cut in before the queen could do so. “I believe I will enjoy myself greatly. I believe that you are already the very best dancing partner I’ve ever had, Your Majesty. The very best  _ male _ dancing partner that is.”

In the dark it was hard to tell, but it appeared as if the queen looked somewhat bashful at the veiled compliment.

“Why is that?” the king asked. Madlen looked back at him and saw something open and vulnerable on that strong face. He needed her reassurance. Despite everything, he was still somewhat insecure. 

“Well… I’ve already had a very pleasant conversation with you. You’ve made me laugh. You’re also very handsome and respectful. And your hands are strong and not clammy.”

Madlen wasn’t sure if she wanted to slap herself in the face for calling the king handsome or for the very odd comment about his hands being dry. To her relief both monarchs laughed.

“I do hate those men with slippery hands. It’s as if you’re being led by a very bold fish,” the queen observed. 

Madlen laughed, partially at the joke, but mostly in relief.

“Shall we?” the king asked, apparently confident enough to begin. “Only… I’m not musically inclined…”

At that, Madlen started humming the same tune which the queen chose for their dance. The king smiled down at her gratefully. One of his hands drifted up to her waist, while the other grasped Madlen’s. The warmth of his fingers was very comforting and yet exciting.

The king moved slower than his wife, as if he had to consider his next steps, but Madlen wouldn’t have noticed that if he wasn’t talking disparagingly about himself beforehand. 

Now she could state unequivocally that he was indeed the best male partner she’s ever danced with. She felt entirely secure in his embrace. Instead of thinking up ways of getting away, she was considering if she could contrive a reason to move closer, to once more feel the strong muscles of his chest under her hands or lay her head against it.

Madlen wanted to tell the king how well he was doing, but that would require her to stop humming, and that would’ve most likely thrown him off his rhythm. He appeared very focused, but at last he caught the smile she was sending his way. The creases on his forehead smoothed out and he smiled back at her.

From that moment on, until the ballad Madlen was humming came to its inevitable end, the king was looking at her instead of concentrating on the floor beyond her back. It was a wonder that Madlen wasn’t blushing under his gaze or that of his wife. They watched her so closely, with such keen interest. She was led to believe that one should blush when being looked at by such beautiful people, and yet her cheeks remained cool. Her heart on the other hand was beating harder than normally.

When silence descended upon them, they stopped moving, but the king didn’t let go of her, and Madlen also held on to him. A part of her waited for the queen to interrupt them, but the other woman didn’t say a word. Madlen chanced a glance in her direction, and found her smiling.

It was up to her then. Madlen should’ve perhaps felt proud at being the responsible one, but the words felt bitter in her mouth when she said “I can’t keep you away from your other guest, can I?”

The king blew out a long breath.

“We should go back into the viper pit,” he said, gently letting go of Madlen.

She missed his touch immediately, and regretted depriving herself of it, when she could’ve had it even a few precious moments longer.

“Yes,” the queen agreed, pursing her lips in clear displeasure. “Will you be alright by yourself, Lady Trevelyan? We should enter separately, lest you draw the attention of some nobleman by your association with us.”

“Certainly, Your Majesty.”

They stood for several heartbeats in perfect silence, unmoving, unwilling to do what was necessary.

It was the king who acted responsibly this time around. He reached out his hand to the queen, and she walked over and took it.

“It was a pleasure, Lady Trevelyan,” he said.

“We shall send for you tomorrow,” the queen promised.

Madlen curtseyed to the two of them, not trusting her voice, lest it tremble or her words embarrass her. 

She watched them retreat, and placed a hand over her heart, willing it to slow down. She was in trouble, she knew, but there was no turning back. Something began that night, and she knew that she was going to see it through, come what may.


	2. Here there be fish

The first thought Madlen had upon waking up was ‘Did it truly happen?’

As the first rays of sun barely poked through the curtains in the room she occupied in her aunt’s estate, she laid in bed trying to bring to mind every detail of the previous evening. It seems too perfect to not be just a dream, and yet it was all too vivid, too sharp in her mind to be just a figment of her imagination.

She thought back to each kind word the king and queen said to her, each smile they sent her way, each touch they bestowed upon her. Whatever happened, she was always going to have this perfect evening to look back on with fondness.

Were they thinking of her as well? She dismissed the thought. They were surely going to think of her later, but she was most definitely not their first thought upon waking.

It had to be very early still, but Madlen knew that she wasn’t going to be able to fall back asleep. She was restless and excited. If she were back home, she would’ve been able to go for a long walk in the forest, but here, even if she managed to sneak out, her mother was surely going to find out and disapprove. Madlen didn’t want to incur her wrath after the scolding she got when she returned to the ball. Her sudden and prolonged absence was a cause of great displeasure to her mother. Madlen tried to explain what happened, but was told to save her excuses, and then promptly made to dance with several unappealing noblemen. That was certainly a sour note to end the evening on, but when compared to the joy she experienced with the royal couple, it seemed unimportant.

There was only one thing that Madlen could do in the confines of her room to release her pent up energy. She’s told the king and queen that she was going to paint them, and despite her earlier hesitation, now all she wanted to do was recreate their beauty and warmth, to gaze upon them again, even if they weren’t there in the flesh.

With quick movements, Madlen opened the curtains and gathered her supplies. She was far too excited to stop to dress and soon her pristine white nightgown was splattered with paint. Perhaps she was going to be able to hide that transgression from her mother for a bit.

Painting was always a source of joy to Madlen, but on that morning it somehow felt even more intense, as if she were pouring every ounce of her feelings onto the canvas. With each brushstroke a different memory returned to her, but she did her best to focus on that one perfect moment when the king and queen sat close to her with the fire illuminating them.

Hours later, when the painting was quite advanced, Madlen looked at the canvas with undisguised pleasure. She was not one to praise herself or be boastful, but this… this was actually good. There was no need to consult an art critic - Madlen knew in her very bones that this was going to be her very best painting. 

Her moment of triumph was interrupted when one of the servants knocked on the doors, and entered after a moment. The servant’s eyes went wide when she saw Madlen in her ruined nightgown.

“Can you not tell my mother about it today?” Madlen pleaded.

The servant smiled slightly.

“Even if I did, Lady Trevelyan probably wouldn’t care. Two letters from the king and queen just arrived - one for you, Miss, and one for your mother.”

Madlen gasped, and quickly took the letter from her. Scanning it quickly, she found out that the monarchs decided that it would be most wise to invite her mother along for an early supper and charm her, so that she would be glad to allow her daughter to spend as much time as possible with her new friends instead of searching for a husband. Madlen smiled. That was indeed a clever plan. Perhaps her being friends with the royal couple would provide enough prestige for her mother to stop thinking about the fact that she was still unwed. Her mother already had two married sons and two married daughters, but none of them could provide her with access to royalty.

Soon her mother burst into the room. She didn’t say a word about the nightgown, instead she rapidly talked about what she and Madlen had to wear for the royal audience. She didn’t truly apologize for her harsh treatment of Madlen the previous evening, but mentioned quickly that she now understood what was keeping her away from the ball. That was as much as Madlen could reasonably expect.

After breakfast, the rest of the morning and afternoon was spent on preparing both women to look their best. Madlen didn’t think it was possible, but her mother was even more exacting than when they were preparing for the ball. As her hair was pulled this way and that, and one dress after another was put on her, Madlen didn’t complain - it was all going to be worth it, she was certain of it.

In the carriage, on the way to the palace, Madlen had the very strange impression that her mother was almost as excited as she was. She always knew that her mother craved prestige and always tried to elevate herself and their family by making advantageous connections, but the joy she was exhibiting at the prospect of having a meal with royalty was like nothing else Madlne’s ever seen from her. It was as if her mother was a young girl going to her first ball - impatient, nervous and full of anticipation.

The king and queen greeted them by the entrance, which surprised both Trevelyans - Madlen expected to be led to a dining room by a servant. They were dressed in surprisingly ordinary clothing - finely made, but not particularly ornate or rich. Still, they were just as attractive as she remembered, and when she lifted her head up after a deep curtsy, she saw their bright smiles and felt immense warmth building within her chest.

The queen proposed a private tour of the palace, and took the lead with Madlen’s mother. The king offered Madlen his arm, and she took it gratefully. She liked the feeling of his arm under her fingers and the safety and ease he radiated.

As they moved from chamber to chamber, one more impressive than the one which preceded it, Madlen half listened to the queen, who talked of the history of the palace and the many artists who decorated it over the ages. The king provided his own commentary in a quiet voice which only Madlen could hear. He pointed out strange little details - paintings which failed in realistically depicting their subject, poorly prepared taxidermy and crooked furniture. He also recalled amusing encounters with foreign dignitaries and Fereldan aristocracy. It was not very educational, but certainly amusing. Madlen found herself having to press a hand to her lips, trying to suppress laughter.

At last they made it to a small private dining room where they were served a hearty Fereldan supper with the same wine which Madlen so enjoyed the previous evening. She could see her mother wincing slightly at the taste, which amused her. Between bites, her mother exalted the beauty of the palace and Ferelden as a whole, and then when the desert was served, smoothly moved on to dropping hints about Madlen’s pitiable state of near spinsterhood, which the royal couple promptly ignored, attempting to change the subject. After Madlen’s mother’s third attempt at returning to the subject, the queen rolled her eyes. She was seated opposite Madlen, so she was the only one who could see the gesture, and appreciate it immensely.

When the evening came to a close, Madlen’s mother readily agreed to allow her daughter to spend as much time with the royal couple as they desired. If she thought there were going to be some eligible bachelors joining them, she was sorely mistaken, but Madlen wasn’t going to disabuse her of that notion.

It wasn’t until two days after the supper that Madlen was to see the royal couple again, and it felt like a small eternity. Her mother took her to a dressmaker to get some more clothing, but that hardly counted as entertainment.

When she was blessedly alone, free from her mother’s good advice on how to impress the king and queen, she painted and practiced her archery in the courtyard. Her mother frowned upon physical exertion and any activity which could be considered violent, but Madlen gathered enough goodwill to be allowed to indulge in it. 

Her father was much more permissive. In fact he expressed some pride at the fact that his daughter pursued both art and weapon’s training, but he was also very keen to keep the peace and not step on his wife’s toes, so Madlen didn’t have his full support. He was the one to propose a compromise by which Malden took her bow, but not her daggers with her to Ferelden. It was also his idea that they go to Denerim to search for a husband for Madlen. Lord Trevelyan knew that his daughter didn’t wish to marry, and had no issue with her decision, but was aware of his wife’s need to keep searching for a proper candidate after Madlen purposefully failed to attract any eligible bachelors in the Free Marches. Ferelden was, as he told Madlen, the perfect place - Madlen’s mother was bound to disapprove of the nobility there even more strongly than Madlen did. His prediction was indeed true, but Madlen’s mother wasn’t losing hope.

Madlen expected her sojourn in Ferelden to be tedious and filled with stilted conversations with dog loving strangers, but now it was she who could hope.

When the appointed day came, it was already terribly hot in the morning, and despite her mother’s protests, Madlen opted for a very simple, light dress, and with a heart beating wildly in anticipation, took her aunt's carriage to the palace.

This time the king and queen were waiting for her in the courtyard, standing by three beautiful stallions.

“You ride, don’t you, Lady Trevelyan?” the king asked the moment Madlen was out of the carriage, forgoing a formal greeting. “We assumed, which is never a good thing to do, so…”

“I do ride, Your Majesty,” Madlen responded, cutting him off. It was not polite, but in her mind it was preferable to letting him worry a moment longer.

“As I told you.” The queen smiled triumphantly. “Lady Trevelyan is a woman after my own heart. I had no doubt that you’re an equestrian,” the other woman added, turning fully to Madlen. “Oh, and welcome back, Lady Trevelyan. We haven’t even greeted you.”

“Which is entirely my fault,” the king interjected.

“Which I don’t mind in the slighests, Your Majesty,” Madlen told him. “All that matters to me is that I’m here. I was so impatient…”

Perhaps she shouldn’t have said that, but it was too late to worry.

“As were we,” the queen said.

“Believe us, Lady Trevelyan, we didn’t wish to make you wait. Matters of the state and other such nonsense…” The king looked around. “I don’t think anyone’s heard me say that.”

“No, Your Majesty, no-one’s heard that. Other than me, and I shall keep your secret.” Madlen placed a hand on her heart in a solemn gesture.

“You could blackmail me, you know that, don’t you, Lady Trevelyan?” The king attempted to look frightened, his eyes going comically large.

“And why would I do that? Is there anything I could get out of you, Your Majesty, with blackmail that I couldn’t with my own charm?”

Madlen shocked herself with those words. Charm? What charm was she speaking of? She was not charming in the slightest. Clever, witty, interesting - she could perhaps call herself those things, but charming? And did that sound… vaguely suggestive?

“I’m sure that if you used the full power of your charm, Alistair would not be able to refuse you anything,” the queen responded for her husband, who looked a bit taken aback. “Shall we?” the queen added, gesturing to the horses.

Both Madlen and the king nodded. As the king was helping his wife mount her horse, Madlen mentally berated herself for her thoughtless words. The king couldn’t say anything in response. He must’ve been mortified. The queen appeared to be taking it all in stride, but perhaps she was just a better actress.

When the king was helping Madlen, they both remained silent. Madlen contemplated apologizing, but worried that returning to the subject would only make things worse.

As they rode through the streets of Denerim, the king and queen were pointing out interesting places to Madlen, and the conversation felt rather natural, which helped to ease her anxiety.

The moment they were outside of the city gates, in the wide open, perfectly green countryside, Madlen felt like she could breathe differently. She felt free.

“I would suggest a friendly race, since I enjoy those immensely, but we are at a disadvantage, sitting side saddle, and also it’s far too hot to torment our horses,” the queen said.

“If not for the weather, I would insist that we race with both of you at a disadvantage, so that I could win for once. She always wins. She’s never allowed me to win, even to save my pride. Isn’t she very cruel, Lady Trevelyan?” The king pouted, and Madlen found the childish expression contrasted with his imposing frame funny.

“I don’t think you would enjoy that false victory, Your Majesty. And I think you love your wife precisely because she would never let you win.” Madlen had no evidence to support her claims, but she felt that she was correct. She knew those people. She’s barely just met them, but she knew them. Even a month earlier she would’ve scoffed at such a notion, calling it absurd, but now she was certain that kinship and understanding were something that in very rare cases could spring up as if by magic.

“That… That is not something I’ve considered, but it’s also entirely true,” the king admitted. He appeared somewhat impressed.

“When we get a chance, I will attempt to best Her Majesty - for your honour and mine, Your Majesty,” Madlen added, emboldened.

“We shall see about that. I will have you know, Lady Trevelyan, that I’m an excellent rider. If you do win with me… I shall have to think of a way to reward you.”

Madlen felt herself getting even warmer at those words. They were meant entirely innocently, she was certain of that. The queen’s voice didn’t sound lower - it was only Madlen’s imagination. Her reward was not going to be anything inappropriate. It was not… She closed her eyes, trying to stop the visions dancing in her mind’s eye.

“Perhaps we should go to the lake and cool off?” the king proposed.

Madlen nodded vigorously. She desperately needed to cool her overactive imagination, lest she say something truly unacceptable.

With that, the king turned into a smaller path, leading into the forest, and Madlen and the queen followed.

They ended up by a fairly large lake, its waters perfectly clear and blue, a small beach interrupting the dense line of trees surrounding it on all other sides. It was entirely quiet, save for infrequent calls of birds. 

The king helped his wife and Madlen dismount, and they set up a small picnic on the beach. It was not the traditional Fereldan food that Madlen came to expect, but mostly small canapes and adorably tiny pastries. The amount of food seemed excessive for just three people, but the king soon explained to Madlen, through  his canape stuffed mouth , that Wardens had incredible appetites.

As the sweet wine flowed freely, Madlen allowed herself to ask the questions which have been on her mind since the first night they’ve met - questions about the Blight and the many adventures the king and queen had together. She worried that the two heroes have heard those same questions hundreds of times and were bored with answering them, and alternatively that the memories were painful and they hated always having to change the topic of conversation when they came up. Luckily it turned out that they enjoyed the reminiscences. They finished each other's sentences, and laughed in anticipation of a joke the other was bound to make. Madlen found their words fascinating and felt like she gained an even deeper respect and admiration for the couple.

By the time the food and wine were gone, the sun was very high in the sky, beating down on them mercilessly. Madlen tried fanning herself with her hand but it was of no use in the still air of midday.

“Perhaps we could dip our toes in the water?” the queen suggested.

“Oh let’s!” Madlen exclaimed, looking longingly at the lake. 

It was only a moment later that she realized that it would require that she take off her shoes and stockings, and stand in the water with her skirt lifted up. She’s done such things many a time with her family and friends, but this was different. How was it different, thought? The king and queen were also people she was fond of and whom she trusted. It was only decorum, stiff rules of propriety that were telling her that she should feel strangely about the situation. And what had decorum or propriety ever done for her? Nothing. 

With that through, Madlen kicked off her shoes, and glanced sideways, catching the sight of the queen with her skirt lifted above her knees, rolling the second stocking down her long pale leg. Madlen watched her fingers work the delicate material and wished fervently that she was permitted to touch the skin on display, to move in the opposite direction, her fingers sliding up, high up until…

“Are you alright, Lady Trevelyan?” the queen asked, hopefully oblivious to the thoughts which were driving Madlen to distraction. “If you don’t feel comfortable then we can…”

“That’s not it. I’m quite alright, thank you, Your Majesty,” Madlen responded, and reached under her skirt to pull off one stocking and then another in quick succession. She didn’t feel confident enough to show her legs in the same manner that the queen did, and hoped that it didn’t come off as prudish.

Before she could worry about that anymore, the king was offering both women a hand to help them get up off the ground. He stood before them with his breeches rolled up to below the knees, his jacket unbuttoned and his nose already pink from the sun - he’s never looked less like a king, and Madlen enjoyed being allowed to see him in such a state. She eagerly took his hand, and the king pulled her and the queen to their feet at the same time with apparent ease. It was such a casual display of strength and it made Madlen wonder what else the king would be capable of doing. He’d have no issues picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder…

“Are you coming, Lady Trevelyan?”

The queen’s voice made Madlen return to reality. Her companions were already ankle deep in the lake, apparently enjoying the cool water.

“Yes, certainly,” Madlen responded, taking quick steps towards the shore. 

She took hold of her skirt and pulled it up just above the ankle. The moment her bare toes touched the water, Madlen sighed.

“Very pleasant, isn’t it?”

Madlen nodded to the queen, while the king waded deeper into the lake. The queen followed her husband, lifting her skirt higher up, above her knees in fact, and Madlen caught a sight of her thighs. Maker, this was more than she could’ve hoped for, and yet less than she desired.

Cautiously, Madlen also lifted up her skirt and took two more steps. The calm water lapped at her overheated skin, and all she wanted to do was to throw caution to the wind and just dive right in.

“Can you swim, Lady Trevelyan?” the king asked.

“But of course!”

The king laughed, possibly because Madlen sounded slightly offended, as if him implying that she couldn’t swim was a great offence.

“I never learned it as a boy. It was my lovely wife who taught me. I was a flailing mess at the start, but I think that I’m not doing terribly now.”

“He’s being modest,” the queen corrected. “He's very good. I think I can even concede that while I’m a far better rider, he is the superior swimmer. With those arms it was inevitable.”

The queen playfully squeezed her husband’s bicep.

It wasn’t that Madlen hadn’t noticed the king’s broad shoulders and muscular arms before, but now she was forced to imagine them bare, moving through water. She swallowed hard.

“Yes, those arms are certainly… arms,” she said inanely, her mind desperately searching for an adequate adjective, but failing. Now her desire to throw herself into the water only deepened. “The sun must be getting to me,” she mumbled.

“Are you alright?” the king asked.

“Would you like to return to the palace?” the queen enquired, moving closer to Madlen.

“No, I’m well, I’d like to stay. I just... I say such nonsense sometimes, and I’d really like to be able to blame it on external circumstances, but I’m afraid it’s just me,” Madlen confessed, digging her fingers into the folds of her dress.

“I’m the best swimmer and the best nonsense talker. You will not take that away from me, Lady Trevelyan.” The king laughed.

“We shall see about that, Your Majesty” Madlen told him, feeling a bit lighter.

“You’ve challenged us both today, Lady Trevelyan,” the queen mused.

“And I’m looking forward to collecting my rewards. Provided that the king is also ready to reward me for my victory over him.”

“Will you reward Lady Trevelyan, love?” the queen demanded, sending a broad smile towards her husband.

“I… Ye-es. Yes. That’s only fair, isn't it?”

Was the king… blushing? Before Madlen could take a better look, the queen suddenly yelped, shivered, and seemingly lost her balance. Without thinking, Madlen reached out for her. The queen grasped her outstretched hand, but Madlen’s stance wasn’t stable, and instead of keeping the queen on her feet, she followed her into the water.

They weren’t deep, so there was no chance of them swimming. Instead both women ended up landing arse first on the surprisingly hard sand.

“Stupid fucking fish!” the queen cursed. “I apologize for my language, Lady Trevelyan. Bad habits I’ve picked up on the road. Are you alright?”

Madlen nodded dumbly. She wasn’t sure if she was in shock because of the fall or because she’s just heard a queen say a word that’s never passed the lips of any other woman Madlen’s ever known.

For his part, the king started laughing. It wasn’t just a short nervous laugh. No, it was a full belly laugh.

“That’s not very gallant, now is it?” the queen admonished, a slight edge to her voice.

“I… It’s just… It’s just funny!” the king managed to say between bursts of laughter. “If you’d only seen yourselves…”

The scene was probably somewhat comical from an outside perspective, but Madlen knew that she was going to have a bruise on her arse, and at the moment she didn’t feel like laughing.

“Fair point,” the queen responded, and Madlen was surprised at her sudden change of attitude.

She looked at the other woman in confusion and saw her incline her head towards the king and then the water. Madlen smiled and nodded.

“Will you help us up, Your Majesty? It’s the least you can do after we’ve entertained you so thoroughly,” Madlen said.

The king wiped the corners of his eyes and nodded. He stepped closer and reached out his hands to the women who both pulled on them hard. On land this certainly would not have worked, but in the water the king wobbled, sank to his knees, and finally tumbled to the side, barely escaping submerging his head by supporting himself on one arm. He looked positively shocked, and Madlen and the queen laughed.

“It really… It really  _ is _ very funny!” the queen announced when their laughter subsided.

“Everything is a matter of perspective,” Madlen agreed.

“This was attempted regicide!” The king pointed an accusatory finger at his assailants, but he couldn’t truly commit to the performance, the beginning of a smile forming on his face. “I was very innocently enjoying nature in all its glory and I was viciously and baselessly attacked. To think that my beloved wife and a new friend I’ve trusted so readily would conspire together and turn on me. Did any king ever suffer as I did? Did any man?!”

The queen only laughed and splashed her husband with more water.

“Will this assault never cease?”

Instead of answering, Madlen joined in, sending wave after wave towards the king, who wasn’t even retaliating.

“I know I deserved it. All of it,” the king admitted when Madlen and the queen got tired and stopped.

The queen smirked triumphantly.

“Shall we get out and dry ourselves?” she suggested.

“Can’t we stay just a bit longer?” Madlen pleaded. “I wanted to dive in from the moment the water touched my skin. I’m already wet so why not enjoy it?”

The queen pressed her lips together, as if trying to suppress a smile. The moment her words registered in her own mind, Madlen did what she couldn’t do before, and lowered her head under the water. She couldn’t really swim in her dress, but she floated face down for a few moments, before the need for air made her turn to her back. 

Wordlessly, the king and queen joined her, laying down on their backs, letting the water rock them gently. Madlen’s words seemed forgotten and all was peaceful.

Madlen closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of sun on her face and water around her. From time to time she felt a hand brush her, and it was a pleasant reminder that she was not alone.

She wasn’t sure how long they'd stayed like that, but at last Madlen felt her fingertips wrinkle unpleasantly, and turned to stand.

“I’m ready to get out,” she announced.

The king and queen also stood, and made to follow her. As she waded towards the shore, Madlen was struck by the sudden realization that they couldn’t very well return to the palace soaking wet. They had to dry themselves and their clothing. Considering the high temperature, it wasn’t going to last terribly long, but sitting in wet clothing wasn’t going to be pleasant.

Once ashore, Madlen started wringing out her skirt, and out of the corner of her eye noticed the king taking off his jacket, and then undershirt, and… And he wore absolutely nothing else underneath! Madlen bit her lip before a truly embarrassing gasp could escape her lips. She quickly turned back to her skirt, squeezing the material with furious strength, trying to focus on the task entirely, to stop her traitorous eyes from trying to turn towards the king’s half nude form and survey the definition of his muscles and the pattern of his scars.

“Alistair, what do you think you’re doing?” Madlen heard the queen demand.

“Trying to dry my clothes faster,” the king explained without a hint of embarrassment. “It’s only practical for me to take them off. Don’t you remember when we were on our way to the Brecilian Forest…”

“Yes, I do remember, but the circumstances were vastly different. Didn’t you consider that Lady Trevelyan may feel awkward? She can’t look up from her skirt.”

“I… No. I… I apologize, Lady Trevelyan, I will dress…”

“No!” Madlen protested. “That is, please don’t inconvenience yourself on my account.”

“That’s no inconvenience,” the king assured.

“It is you who should not be inconvenienced,” the queen added.

“I…” Madlen sighed, her gaze still downcast. “I don’t mind. I’m not embarrassed. It’s just… Well, perhaps I  _ am _ embarrassed, but only because I’ve never been in a situation like that. I feel very… unworldly, provincial. I hardly know what to do, where to look to be polite.”

“Polite? I’m fairly certain that politeness went out of the window the moment my wife screamed about the ‘stupid fucking fish’ and I very ungallantly laughed at her and your misfortune, Lady Trevelyan.”

Madlen laughed and tentatively straightened her back. She very deliberately looked up and focused on the king’s face.

“Do not worry about being unworldly. Everything that anyone’s ever done started with a first time. Also, you’re tolerating our madness quite admirably. I’m convinced that most other nobles would’ve long ago departed from our company,” the queen told Madlen.

Turning to look at her wasn’t helping Madlen’s composure. The queen’s long red hair was wet, the colour even darker, stark against her pale skin. Her dress clung to her body almost obscenely, accentuating her gentle curves. She certainly wasn’t wearing a corset or even a thick breastband. Whatever she had under the dress had to be very flimsy and it did nothing to conceal her body’s reaction to the cold water. Madlen almost forgot the whole conversation they’ve just had.

“That’s kind of you to say, Your Majesties,” she managed to tell the royal couple, looking somewhere between them, knowing that if she turned to either side, she’d only get transfixed by their physiques.

“You do not offend us with your gaze,” the queen said, clearly noticing Madlen’s shifting eyes.

What did that mean? Was that an encouragement? An invitation for Madlen to look her fill? Or was it just the acceptance of the fact that Madlen’s gaze was bound to occasionally stray?

Gathering her composure, Madlen looked back at the queen and smiled, hoping that it didn’t look strained. She had to prove to them that she was at ease. She had to prove that to herself.

“Should I take off my dress as well? If it’s the practical thing to do…”

The queen seemed to relax at Madlen’s words.

“I wasn’t going to push you to do so, but it is the sensible way to go about things,” the other woman said, her hands drifting to her back, trying to undo the fastenings of her own garment.

“Let me help you, love,” the king offered, stepping behind his wife and lending a hand.

Madlen allowed herself to look at them. The king stood a head taller than his wife and now he was bending down to work at whatever complicated contraptions held her dress together. His bare arms moved slowly and carefully. The queen was trying to help him, both hands behind her back. They both laughed at some difficulty they’ve encountered. They were so at ease with each other, so perfectly matched.

All Madlen wanted to do was to go to them, to touch them in turn, but she held her feet firmly planted. Her gaze was not offending them, but her touch certainly would.

Madlen should’ve been taking off her own dress, but she didn’t have the presence of mind to do so, which was why the queen caught her staring with her hands at her sides. Madlen opened her mouth to make an excuse, but nothing came out as she watched the queen’s smile widened. She held Madlen’s gaze as her dress gave up its struggle, and the king started peeling the sodden material from his wife’s body. 

It was Madlen who broke eye contact as her gaze slipped, following the material’s path, noticing the light yellow undershirt, which left almost nothing to the imagination, and then an underskirt of the same colour, which laid on the queen’s legs like a second skin. At last the dress was pooled around the queen’s feet, and Madlen’s eyes travelled back up her body, observing every dip and curve, every strong line of muscles. The queen still smiled when their eyes met again.

“Do you need help, Lady Trevelyan?” she asked.

Madlen stifled a laugh. She desperately needed help because she was in uncharted waters, and she wasn’t going to turn back towards the safety of the shallows. She was thrilled and scared and she’s never been more alive.

“If you’d be so king, Your Majesty.”

“My pleasure, Lady Trevelyan.”

The queen moved towards Madlen, while the king started laying the clothing flat on the sand so that it could dry. It felt strange to Madlen how casually he acted, how oblivious he was to what has just transpired. Or perhaps nothing’s transpired, and it was all in Madlen’s head. 

When the queen touched her back, Madlen bit her lip hard. A woman she’s just watched being undressed was about to undress her. A beautiful and charming woman was touching her. This was like a scene from one of her dreams, and yet after that first gentle touch at the back of her neck, the queen was rather business-like in her actions.

Just as Madlen was about to start over analyzing everything all over again, the king accomplished his tasks and laid down on their picnic blanket, hands behind his head, his muscles stretching and flexing. Madlen’s mind went blank. The king had his eyes closed against the sun, so Madlen felt emboldened to look at his body, to imagine tracing the silvey lines of his scars with her fingers.

As her dress was being gently pulled from her body, Madlen had a fleeting moment of wanting the king to open his eyes, to look at her just like she looked at the queen. He did not do such a thing, and perhaps that was for the better. Was Madlen anything to look at anyway? She didn’t have the queen’s long, lithe and slim body. She had a body which people praised as good for bearing strong children, with rounded hips and full breasts. Not being interested in bearing children, Madlen didn’t see it as a positive. It was inconvenient when she was pursuing the outdoor activities she enjoyed, and when she was put in tight corsets and low cut dresses, she felt vulgar, so unlike her elegant and subtle friends.

“All done, Lady Trevelyan,” the queen announced, when the dress hit the sand.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Madlen bent down to lay the dress next to the royal couple’s garments.

“It’s a bit absurd, isn’t it?” the king said.

“What is absurd, love?” the queen asked, sitting by her husband’s side on the blanket.

“Us. Using those nonsense titles. We’ve already gone so far beyond the bounds of propriety that old matrons around Ferelden are certainly suffering from the vapors because they sense a disturbance in the order of their world.”

Madlen laughed. If only her mother or any of her many aunts knew - they’d surely faint.

“Fair point,” the queen agreed. “Shall we dispose with formalities?”

It took Madlen a second to realize that the queen was asking her, and not her husband.

“If you’d like, Your Majesty,” Madlen responded, moving to sit opposite the queen on the blanket.

“I’d like that very much, Madlen.”

Hearing the queen say her name thrilled Madlen.

“Thank you for indulging us, Madlen,” the king added, getting up to sit.

Madlen had no idea if it was his deep voice speaking her name or the sight of his body moving, getting closer to her, that made her breathing go shallow. It was all madness, and she only wanted more of it.

As their clothes were drying, they talked of idle things, and each time the king or queen spoke her name, Madlen was thrilled all over again. A wide smile hadn’t escaped her face for the rest of the day. She couldn’t even feel sad when they had to get dressed, and return to the palace. The day was perfect, and it was just the first of many, she had no doubt about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're enjoying the story, consider leaving kudos or comments. I'd appreciate it.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic started with me thinking too much about Manchanification's amazing story "Hero worship" (if you haven't read it, please do yourself a favor and find it immediately). I couldn't stop wondering what would've happened if Artemis Trevelyan met Alistair and Elizabeth Cousland before Inquisition, if they'd become instant friends instead of having initial antagonism. Artemis is a mage, which means that she's be stuck in the Circle, not able to meet them, so instead I started thinking about a different Cousland and a different Trevelyan, and here we are. I'm fully aware that no-one was clamoring for this ship, but it took over my mind entirely, and I hope that someone else will enjoy it as well. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated.


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